Issues lie ahead
For the last eight months, the national punditry has continually predicted the downfall of Trump, and it’s been a non-stop exercise in futility. Nothing has upended the Donald Express. Not Mexican rapists or Muslim immigrants or crude vulgarities or protestor clashes or anything else that has been served up as “OK, this is the fuckup that will finally take this guy down.”
The Trump Train has just kept on barrelling through the night, not getting derailed but actually picking up steam, which has been provided by an army of troglodytian supporters who take great glee in the media’s hand-wringing, Depends-drenching responses to “The Trump Phenomenon.”
It’s been quite the ride. A significant and obviously wasted on opioids cross-section of America has been coaxed out of its various spider holes, and, while illuminating as hell, it’s not particularly inspiring or reassuring.
But then, as I watched Trump turn his acceptance speech for victories in Michigan and Mississippi into a quasi-surreal infomercial for his winery, his steaks and his golf courses—I half expected him, once he got rolling, to bellow, “And here’s Carol, with the keys to a new Buick for some lucky Trump supporter tonight, give it up for Carol Merrill, everybody!”—I finally saw the speed bump that will, once and for all, bump Trump off the tracks.
Sooner or later, Donald is finally going to have to talk about, you know, uh, um, oh shit what’s the word—policy! He’s gonna have to talk about all that boring political stuff like policies, programs and plans. He’s actually going to have to reveal how all this “greatifying of America” will actually happen. This ain’t a reality show no mo’, Don, this is a reality check. Ain’t that a bitch?
Oh, it won’t be half as much fun as calling Ted Cruz a pussy—which, I have to admit, got a genuine LOL outta me—or telling protestors to go home to mommy or swearing that Mexico will pay for The Wall (despite the quote from former Mexican president Vicente Fox, who said “I’m not gonna pay for any fucking wall!” with fiery habanero vehemence), but the time is coming when even Trump is gonna have to freshen the jive a bit.
I mean, damn, Don, you’ve been bloviating now for eight months about The Wall, the shitty deal we made with Iran, how Carl Icahn is gonna kick Chinese ass and on and on and blah blah blah, and brother, you better tell your writing staff to kick it up to some kind of next level fast or Bernie/Hillary will slice you up into little chunks of Trump sushi when you show up for that first debate, and you actually have to say something beyond “Get him outta here!”
Wishful thinking? You bet! I had an image of Don, as he spouted about his wife/jet hotels/golf courses, with his finger on The Button. Not a warm and fuzzy butterball of comfort, I’m tellin’ ya!
